


"Fine, woman, have your secrets"

by erintoknow



Series: Aria [11]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Female Friendship, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 22:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19028791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: Ortega goes through relationships like some people go through clothes. Not that you've been keeping track of it or anything. What she does isn't any of your business. Of course.





	"Fine, woman, have your secrets"

**Author's Note:**

> [[Ha Ha Ha Armageddon by Julie Ruin]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8D_nAuDbTA)

Julia’s pulling at your arm, dragging you after her through the apartment complex. She has this huge shit-eating grin on her face and despite your best efforts it’s hard not to feel it too. “I can’t believe you d–d–did that!” You hiss at her.

“ _I_ can’t believe I did that!” Julia comes to a stop in front of what you assume is her apartment door and pulls you into a hug.

You squirm in her arms, pushing her off you. “You’re the–the–the  _Marshal_! You can’t just – just punch out your boyfriend!”

“I think this technically makes him an ex-boyfriend now.” She sorts through her pockets, looking for keys.

“This isn’t a joke!”You press a hand to your temple, willing yourself to stay mad.

Ortega at last finds her keyring, slipping a finger through the metal loop and flipping the keys through the air with an entirely unneeded flourish before unlocking the door and pushing it open. “Ladies first,” she says, ushering you inside. You hesitate, glancing at her. Julia’s been trying to invite you over for ages now and you’ve always managed to wriggle your way out of it. Was this whole thing really her way of pressing the issue? No, no. Julia can be craftier then you give her credit for sometimes but well… it’s not like she’s _you._ You return Ortega’s grin with a nervous smile of your own and step inside. Julia follows behind you, pulling the door shut.

Julia’s apartment isn’t terribly extravagant, there’s a living space with a couch, coffee table, and TV, a kitchenette to your immediate left as you walk in. Behind the TV the massive glass window gives a view of the skyscrapers that make up the heart of the city. “Welcome home,” she says, “there’s the fridge over there,” she gestures with her free hand as she locks the door, “help yourself to whatever.”

“Um… okay, th–thanks.” You answer, feeling a little small. Everything looks so clean, and new, and the difference between the lives of Julia Ortega and Ariadne Becker have never felt quite so stark before.

If Julia notices your cowed reaction, she doesn’t let on. That’s either uncharacteristically polite of her or she legitimately doesn’t notice. You’re not sure which you’d prefer.

“What possessed you to... punch that poor man?” You stick to a safe question.

Julia avoids you gaze, walking past the kitchen counter to what you assume is her bedroom. “Don’t you worry about it,” she pauses, then adds “he had it coming anyway.”

“Doesn’t he have like… uh–” you falter, blanking on the figure, “many dollars?”

She looks back at you, amused, then gestures at the Ranger uniform she’s wearing. “I’m going to put some normal clothes on, no peeking okay?” She laughs as if this is the funniest thing in the world and shuts the bedroom door.

You roll your eyes and bury your head in her fridge. “Would– wouldn’t dream of it, you old hag.”

Through the door you hear a muffled “I heard that!”

“Good!" You cackle. "I’d hate to–to–to think an old woman like you already needs hearing aides!”

You pull a can of cheap bear out of the fridge, and then on second thought, grab another for Ortega, leaving them both out on the counter. Hanging on the wall across from you is a collection of framed photographs. Most of the faces you don’t recognize, except for having seen them in her office. Friends? Family? Is this what real – what normal people decorate their homes with? You can’t help but feel a little pang of jealousy. Odd, you don’t find any pictures of her boyfriend, or maybe, that’s not so strange? You don’t really know how this kind of thing works.

Her newest boyfriend is this blue-eyed blond-hair corporate sponsored hero, and like all corp heroes he looks like he came straight off the rack of central casting. The two of them met on the job, because of course, and corp-man had _ideas_ about ways the Rangers could shore up their finances.

You’ve made a pointed effort not to learn or remember the man’s name.

Julia steps out of her bedroom, looking much more at home in a pair of slacks and a tank top. To your surprise her braid is undone, hair looking wild and free as it trails down her back. You toss her one of the beers, “Thanks,” she catches it and cracks it open.

You grab the other can and join her on the couch. “Are you... um, going to tell me _why_ you socked him?”

“Damian is a _pendejo_.”

You give Julia a look. “I’ve been telling you th–that for weeks. Hell, _Steel_ of all people, told you that.”

Julia groans and stares at the ceiling, “Yeah, but… I thought I could put up with it at least until the sponsorship deal was signed. But then tonight right after you left he…”

“He _what_ , Ortega?” You press.

“Oh, you’ll just get mad if I tell you.”

You huff. “Well gee, Ortega, now I’m just... mad without knowing why I’m–”

She waves a hand to cut you off. “It doesn’t matter what he said, I’m done with him.”

You sigh, the static hum of Julia’s mind betraying nothing of what went on in the entire minute between you leaving Ranger HQ and Julia bursting out after you, grabbing your arm, and yelling for you to run for it. “Fine, woman, have your secrets.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to think about that jerk right now,” She drains the rest of her beer, dropping the empty can on the coffee table. Julia makes a face like she just drank something foul. “I’m already going to have be kissing asses all week to make up for this.”

“How inconsiderate of him, really.”

“I know!”

With that line of inquiry out of the running, you let the awkward silence fill the air between the two of you. You shift in your seat to stand up, only to find Julia’s hand on your sleeve, trying to pull you back down.

“Hey, don’t go. Not yet.”

Something in her voice makes you stop, frozen in mid-rise. “Are you-“

“Pizza!” Julia pumps a fist in the air, “we should order a pizza and watch a movie!”

You sit back down.

* * *

It’s one in the morning when the credits for James Cameron’s Apollo 13 finally roll. Two empty pizza boxes lay open on the floor, and enough empty cans of beer (most of it Julia’s doing) that you don’t want to count them. The Coffee table has been pushed out of the way, against the wall so you can Julia can sit on the floor, backs against the couch like the pair of delinquent teenagers you must definitely are not.

Julia stretches her arms, arcing her back as she raises her fists into the air. “Wow, that was pretty good with the special effects and all.”

You look away from her, suddenly, painfully aware of how you don’t have any right to be here. “I can’t believe that – that, um, they got actual footage.”

Julia gives you a strange look. “What do you mean?”

You can feel the heat in your face, instantly aware you’ve said something wrong but helpless to do anything but see it through. “The-the one scene on the moon?”

Julia stares at you for a moment longer than bursts out laughing. “It’s science-fiction you dummy!” She lightly jabs you in the arm as you sink down to the floor, face burning. “No one’s ever actually gone to the moon!” She cackles.

You can feel a knot in your gut, you’ve fucked up. You’ve fucked up and now they’ll all know. They’ll know your fraud and a liar and they’ll turn you back over and you’re going to lose everything and she’ll hate you forever and–

“Hey, hey, Ari? You okay?” Julia’s hand is on your shoulder, shaking you gently. The laughter is gone, replaced with a look of concern, and that almost scares you more.

You rub your eyes, “It– it's fine – I’m fine,” you lie. You shrug off Ortega and push yourself back up right. You take the chance to get up and stretch your legs, gather up the garbage, pull your face back into a neutral expression.

Julia stifles a yawn and runs her hands through her hair, trying to gather it into strands, but not quite getting it. “Damn,” Julia giggles, “I’m drunk as hell.”

You put on a concerned frown, eager to let things move to a new topic. “What're you...?”

Julia tries to cross two handfuls of hair, “Gotta - _mierda!_ \- gotta braid my hair before I go to bed or it’ll be a mess; tomorrow’s going to be bad enough. Bunch of whiny punk-ass–” Julia descends into a stream of slurred curses in Spanish.

You take a seat on the couch as Julia tries to loop two strands of hair around a third, one slips out of her hands and she has to start over. She hisses.

You watch her struggle. “Do you need to do this, um, right now?" You let her carry on a moment longer. "This is just – just, um, painful to watch. And... maybe a little sad."

Julia stops fussing with her hair to turn and look at you. She looks like she’s about to say something, but doesn’t. Then a sly smirk spreads across her on her face and Julia silently scoots on the floor over to you. “Oh yeah? You think you can do better?” She turns her back to you, resting her head on her hands. “Put that master mind of yours to work girl.” He voice is light, slightly slurred.

You stare at the back of her head.

Oh god.

A moment passes.

Fuck.

Then another.

Finally, Julia asks, “Uh… Ari, you still there?”

“I–I–I’m working on it!” You snap. Part of you feels like you’ll be struck by lightning if you touch her, a fear that, with the hero Charge is perhaps not entirely unjustified. “I’m just… trying to figure it out–“

“What, didn’t your mom teach you?” Her tone is light, joking, but you can’t read her mind and now with her back to you, you can’t even read your face. You feel like you’ve be stranded in a minefield. You can’t tell her this is the longest your own hair has ever been, and you _absolutely_ can’t tell her you’ve never had a mother. You never learned this at the Farm, why would you? You weren’t playing any women roles.

Julia has this aggravating habit of pushing at the edges of your Ariadne persona without even realizing it. Now Ariadne has a favorite color, hates the rain, has a preferred taco truck, even a sense of style, if barely. All these little details you never imagined being important. You like Anathema, she gets it. Neither of you need to pry about the other in order to enjoy the other’s company.

But unlike the rest of the Rangers, Julia can never take no for answer. Never leave well enough alone. Hell, your morning routine has tripled in length now that you actually care what you face looks like, now that you have a face even. So how does Ariadne handle this? Ariadne wouldn’t be scared of touching someone else’s hair right? She fights monsters on a daily basis.

You must have taken too long to respond because Julia’s right hand reaches back and catches your own. “Look, it’s dead easy, I’ll walk you through it.”

And she does, letting go of your hand as she walks you through it, step by step. She is right, it is dead easy, once you have the hang of it.

You cross the lefthand strand over the middle, then the righthand over both of them.

This is just some… perfectly normal bonding thing, that perfectly normal human women do.

Left over middle, right over middle.

And you’re not some imposter, you’re just… a friend taking care of a friend.

When you finish, Julia grabs an elastic band off the coffee table and slips it on to keep the end of her braid in place. She leads back and you have to quickly shift your legs so her head doesn’t end up between your thighs. “Hey Ari?”

“Y–yeah?”

“Damian really sucked.”

“...You don’t say,” your tone carefully diplomatic.

“And then what he called you-” You go stock still. Oblivious, Julia clenches her hand into a fist. Little blue sparks crawl out of her palm and down her arm. “I just got so mad and,” She punches the air in front of the two of you, electricity discharges from her fist to the metal rim of the coffee table with a faint zap! sound.

Julia tilts her head back up at you, her face more than a little flush. It’s too much, you have to look away. “But you know what _I_ think?” She winks at you.

“You’re drunk, Ortega.” You caution her. Maybe if you were a real woman you would know how to handle this? How does Julia always manage to get you into the most awkward situations? Why you do you keep letting this woman keep do this to you?

Julia reaches a hand up to your face but you bat it away. “I think you’re _very_ pretty,” she says. Something impossible snaps inside your chest.

“You’re drunk, Ortega.” You insist, suddenly feeling very tired.


End file.
